


Heart to Heart As We Hit the Floor

by HermioneGrangerTwin



Series: Heart to Heart [1]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGrangerTwin/pseuds/HermioneGrangerTwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean no one has ever said that to you?”<br/>Chris places his hand on his collarbone, his <i>obviously damp</i> collarbone, brushing back and forth as he thinks. Darren is mesmerized by the movement of his hand for quite a while, possibly missing the first of whatever Chris is saying. “I mean, I’ve been told I’m talented, or whatever, but I mean...” Chris trails off, shrugging and shaking his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart to Heart As We Hit the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Roxy Music’s “Love is the Drug”, the driving force of specific sections of this fic. Thanks to [Bee](fruitflyxo.tumblr.com) and [Maia](imacolfersexual.tumblr.com) for cheerleading me through this. I could not have gotten through the same specific sections without the very specific encouragement they supplied. Namely, this helpful comment: “YES GOOD FUCK FAME AND FORTUNE AND JUST SUCK THAT DICK DARREN YES.” So, yeah. Thanks to them. The working title of this fic was, “The one where Chris stops being merely awesome and becomes attractive and and then stops being attractive and starts making Darren's pants uncomfortable”.

When Darren met Chris, it was sort of awkward, because Darren sure as hell didn’t expect Chris to know who he was, let alone be “a fan” of some stupid shit he pulled with his friends in college.

But there he was, Chris Colfer, star of a Golden Globe winning series, beaming at him and holding out his hand to shake with hair falling into his face.

For lack of a better word, he was adorable.

Objectively, he knew he was only a few years older than Chris, but the observation stuck in his mind. Chris Colfer was adorable.

But as he spent the day with Chris, his dry wit rose above his cuteness. Chris knew how to make running down the hallway hand-in-hand hilarious in ways that Darren and all his slapstick humor could never accomplish. But you’d never know he was just cracking a subtle handjob joke three seconds ago when he was playing Kurt. His focus was completely in the character. The director said “action” and Chris Colfer didn’t exist anymore. Kurt Hummel took his place.

There was always a little Darren in every role he performed. Because of Darren, Blaine became a little goofy during musical numbers, jumping on furniture and bouncing around the common room they practiced in. Chris, it seemed, abandoned himself entirely. Although it was clear from talking to Chris after wrapping scenes that he used the torment of his high school years to play Kurt, you wouldn’t know it from watching him. Chris was the actor Darren aspired to be. With all he had to rise above, Chris was the person Darren aspired to be.

Chris quickly established himself as Darren’s closest friend on set. They made dorky jokes behind the camera, referencing obscure facts and quoting lines from movies at each other in an imbroglio of conversation. They couldn’t quite remember how they got from Harry Potter to that part in Howard the Duck that made them both laugh, but Darren was sure that he’d never had so much fun in a conversation.

He didn’t realize he found Chris attractive until the moment right before Blaine kissed Kurt for the first time.

As he drew closer to Chris, eyes locking, his eyelashes fluttered shut in the split second before Darren closed his own. Everything about Chris was open in a way that he rarely was. His distance had been schooled into him from the moment it became evident that he wasn’t like anyone else, nor was he willing to act like he wanted to be. For a rapidly shrinking  moment in time, Chris exposed himself completely. Darren realized that, sometimes, he saw all of Chris in Kurt.

In the vulnerability of the moment, he saw Chris’s beauty, not objectively, but as one person forming feelings for another.

And he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted to be an actor just like Chris was.

-ß-

He chooses to ignore these feelings for the sake of the show and their easy companionship. He pointedly ignores Kurt’s outfit in “Born This Way” and the way he moves when they dance together and the way he swings around the structure in Kurt’s West Side Story audition. Mostly, though, he ignores the fact that in Dublin, he kissed Chris Colfer and it was more exciting than any kiss with any person, girl or guy, that he’s shared a kiss with.

But there’s only so much a man can ignore.

And when Chris Colfer answers the door just after exercising, he realizes that ignoring his feelings was possibly the stupidest idea he’s ever had.

It’s not so much the black t-shirt ringed with sweat or the subtle musculature sneaking out of his sleeves or even how powerful his thighs look, it’s the sweat making the hair at his temples curl. His face is beginning to turn pink and the flush of exertion is spreading down his neck.

Darren knows he’s gaping at one of his closest friends, but he cannot close his mouth. It’s like Chris has spirited away with the part of his brain that controls motor function.

“Darren,” Chris says, one eyebrow rising toward his sweat soaked hair, Jesus fucking Christ, “Are you alright?”

The question rings with slight amusement, and Darren knows he should get his shit together and gather his wits, or whatever he says could be story Chris tells everyone—wonderfully and with excellent imagery—for a long time. He’s wondering if he should just turn around and leave, because honestly, he isn’t sure that anything that he says will be unworthy of a “listen to what Darren did this time” story.

“Are you having a stroke?” Chris asks, eyes still glittering.

“No. You’re sweaty.”

Mission definitively not accomplished.

Chris’s right eyebrow joins his left as he says, “Oh, do I smell? Can’t be any worse than choreography with Zach.”

“No, you look—” Well, fuck, if he’s gonna go there, he might as well just go ahead; he isn’t getting out of this conversation with any dignity anyway, “—fantastic.”

Chris looks down at himself, brow furrowing and then back up to Darren with narrowed eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been working out and,” he feels rambling coming on, oh God, why? “and you’re sweaty and you’re all muscly and your arms and—”

“Darren, just shut up for a second. Are you high?”

Darren shakes his head. “No, I’m just—Don’t you know how attractive you are?”

Chris laughs for so long he has to hold his stomach by the time he’s done. “That’s ridiculous; stop fucking around.”

Darren just stands there, mouth gaping. How does he not know how gorgeous he is, how much Darren has to hold himself back every day? How can he not see the desperate want in his eyes on set when Chris performs?

When Darren doesn’t join in on his laughter, Chris narrows his eyes again. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Dare, I’m fine. What are you on?”

“Nothing. I’m just—” He takes a second to focus. He’s never going to make sense if he keeps getting distracted by the sweat trailing down Chris’s long, graceful neck. “You’re gorgeous, Chris Colfer.”

“Yeah, sure, okay. Let’s just go with that for a minute. If that’s the case, then why has no one ever said anything like that except you, in your clearly unhinged state.”

“I’m not unhinged,” he says.

“Darren, you’ve been standing in my doorway, staring at me for at least five full minutes without even recognizing the fact that I’m making room for you to come in. Something’s wrong with you.”

Oh, yeah, that’s less than effective at proving his sanity.

He comes into the room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. “What do you mean no one has ever said that to you?”

Chris places his hand on his collarbone, his obviously damp collarbone, brushing back and forth as he thinks. Darren is mesmerized by the movement of his hand for quite a while, possibly missing the first of whatever Chris is saying. “I mean, I’ve been told I’m talented, or whatever, but I mean...” Chris trails off, shrugging and shaking his head.

“That’s insane. I mean, not that you aren’t talented, because you so are, but you’re pretty good on the outside too.”

Chris smiles like he does at little kids and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you think there’s a reason I just stood outside looking at you for so long?”

“I’m sure there is, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to get into all your problems right now.”

“Chris, just be serious for a second.” He sits on the couch and rests his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his legs. “I’m not screwing around with you, I think you’re attractive.”

Chris tilts his head and watches him for a long moment and Darren swears he hears the world spinning around them. “You’re not screwing around?”

“Chris, I haven’t been screwing around since Dublin.”

Chris’s fingers drop to his side abruptly, eyes widening and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Darren, I—”

The after-party that night consisted of some of the most agonizing hours of his life, Chris not speaking to him, not looking at him, laughing at other people’s jokes, taking drinks from everyone while Darren watched, half-heartedly carrying on conversations with Cory and Chord about music.

The next day, it was as if it hadn’t happened, Chris back to sitting with him, laughing with him, and Darren decided never to pull anything like that again, because it was obvious Chris didn’t want him in that way.

“And I know we don’t talk about Dublin because you didn’t want what I did, and I’m sorry, but—”

“Darren, it wasn’t that I didn’t want it.”

Darren’s heart stops for just a second, long enough to realize that he never wanted anything more than he wanted for Chris to want him back.

“I couldn’t want it,” Chris says, eyes on the window to the left of Darren. “It’s not like they ever want us to do anything together outside of the actual show.” He begins to pace a little, his sneakered feet clattering against the hardwood. “They don’t want us to sit together or hang out together or laugh together or do anything together and if there was the remotest chance that you didn’t really want to kiss me, that it was a joke or a fling,” he stops pacing and looks up at the ceiling then, “I could not risk the job that got me out of Clovis. I couldn’t lay my heart down to be stomped on by not just you, but by every Glee official and the press and the memory of every single guy that never found me attractive.”

“Chris,” Darren says, his heart aching at the resigned tone of Chris’s voice. How could people have so thoroughly convinced someone like him that he’s not wanted? “I’m sure someone found you attractive.”

“Not as a male. Maybe I was attractive as a way to get into the spotlight or a stepping stone to someone better,” he says, gesticulating with staccato movements, “but no one that ever came on to me wanted to fuck me because I was attractive or smart or funny, but because I was famous.”

Darren stands up, crossing the small space between them and grasping Chris’s rogue hands, making sure Chris is looking at him before he says, “I don’t know what was wrong with any of those people, but it’s not hard to see that you’re beautiful.”

Chris shakes his head, looking down at their clasped hands. “Darren, you—”

“No, listen to me for a second. Believe me for just a few minutes. Look at me.”

Chris looks up at Darren, studying his face.

“When I kissed you that night, it wasn’t to get you out of character or to advance my career or my prospects or because you’re Chris Colfer, the Golden Globe winning actor who has stolen the hearts of teenagers the world over. It was because you’re Chris Colfer, the guy who loves his cat and writing and acting and never takes his success for granted for even one second for fear that it could escape just as easily as it came, the guy who opened the door this evening and terrified me by making it impossible for me to not tell you how hot you are because the last thing I wanted was to endanger your career or mine or worse, our friendship. And I don’t know what else to say to prove to you that this isn’t just a fling or a joke or anything more or less than me, some goofy kid from San Francisco trying to be with you.”

And in all the time he spent ignoring any possible feelings for Chris out of fear of rejection and ruination, this is the first time he’s ever admitted, even to himself, that he wants to be with Chris, not just wants to look at him, or talk to him, or act with him, wants all of him, wants to belong to him in every way.

Chris’s mouth opens, just as gaping as his own had been just a few minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, fingers gripping Darren’s and eyes locked on his. “You’re not screwing with me, right? Nobody put you up to this; you’re not—”

“No,” Darren says, shaking his head somberly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this serious in my life.”

Chris chuckles, eyes closing and head tipping forward to rest on Darren’s shoulder. “I can vouch for the last few years in any case.”

Darren grins, leaning his temple against the back of Chris’s head. “Alright, then. So, to the point I was trying to reach before, do you believe me?”

Darren can feel Chris shaking his head against his shoulder, but he says, “I believe that you, beyond all probability, find me attractive.”

Darren nods, letting go of  Chris’s hands to wrap one arm around Chris’s back and pull him closer. “I’ll take it.” He uses his other hand to tip Chris’s face up and murmurs, “Can I kiss you again?”

Chris raises an eyebrow, tilting his head from side to side in thought. “Well, last time was pretty good, but you did take me by surprise, so as far as first kisses goes, I’m not sure it was your finest effort. Not nearly as good as Blaine, at any rate.”

Darren’s grin widens and he says, “How about I leave you in charge, then?”

Chris’s faux skeptical expression softens and he says, “I’d like that.”

Darren closes his eyes and waits, knowing that Chris will kiss him when he’s ready.

And seven and a half seconds later, long enough for Darren to reconsider the whole thing and wonder if Chris had been fucking with him the whole time, because, let’s be honest, who was he to think he was even in the same league as—

Darren gets a brief moment of warning as Chris brushes his nose against Darren’s and then his lips, and there’s no more thought of whether or not he’s good enough or funny enough, because all his attention is focused on the fact that his best friend and the object of more than two years of affection is kissing him. Every movement of Chris’s lips pulls in his stomach, nervousness and longing clenching in his gut. When Chris’s mouth opens against his, he wastes no time in responding in kind, tongues tangling together in his mouth, arms moving to drape themselves over the tops of Chris’s shoulders, feeling their height difference acutely.

Chris makes a content noise in the back of his throat, usually saved for the first sip of Diet Coke, still perfectly carbonated as it slides along his tongue and down his throat. His arms encircle Darren’s body, hands resting on Darren’s lower back and pressing their hips together. His center of attention shifts to the angles of Chris’s body against his own, feeling the way Chris’s hands are sliding up his back as his lips pull away from Darren’s (causing him to quite embarrassingly crane his neck to follow them) and trail down his neck.

Darren whines as his hands begin to fall to his sides for a moment and he envelops Chris’s waist with his arms, attempting to push himself impossibly closer and tilting his head to give Chris more access. Chris bites the junction of his shoulder and neck, leaving smaller nibbles as he travels back up. “So good,” Darren breathes, Chris having pulled his earlobe into his mouth.

And then Darren rocketed away from Chris’s body, having realized half a second too late that he was pressing his half-hard cock into Chris’s hip.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, half-winded from his abrupt change in position and Chris’s earnest attempts to bring him unglued.

Chris smirks, stepping closer to him. “Don’t be.”

-ß-

If Darren thought it was hard to ignore how attractive Chris was before they became...well, whatever they are, he was mistaken. It seems like Chris is purposefully attempting to drive him wild, unbuttoning Kurt’s shirts to an indecent degree and accentuating every outfit to showcase his ass. The ass that Darren has made it quite clear he has a vested interest in.

It’s not an uncommon occurance now for Darren to “escort” Chris back to his trailer in the guise of discussing a scene or a plot point or a recent movie or whatever the fuck will get him into his boyfriend’s skin tight, devil pants faster.

He calmly chats with Chris until they get inside the trailer and lock the door and then, he’s a different man, desperate to take off the bowtie and vest so painstakingly chosen by wardrobe, saying, “I swear to God, if Kurt wears anymore layers, he’ll have to move to Antarctica.”

Chris laughs, trying to help Darren in his inability to force buttons through their respective holes.

“Come on, Darren, it’s not that hard.”

“Well, that’s—” he stops abruptly, Chris having taken his hand and pressed it against the front of his pants, his cock obviously straining against the zipper.

“I was going to say that’s easy for you to say, but obviously—” he breaks off with a moan, Chris nipping at the spot behind his ear that never fails to ruin his concentration, “—I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Then, stop talking and just do. Why do you have to be so chatty all the time? Jesus.”

Darren smirks, mind settling on an idea relatively new to Chris. “Fine, then.”

He discontinues his less-than-methodical attempts to rid himself of clothing and instead, focuses on peeling Chris’s jeans down his mile-long legs, pulling the briefs along with them and resting on his knees in front of Chris.

Chris’s eyes widen slightly, watching Darren as he places kisses all along his stomach and hips and down, mouthing along Chris’s cock and grasping Chris’s hips in his hands.

“Darren, what are you—”

Darren pulls back slightly to say, “You told me to stop talking and just do, so here, I’m just doing.”

Chris whines loudly, voice cracking, as Darren sucks the head of Chris’s cock into his mouth and twists his tongue along the slit, letting go of one hip to wrap his fist at the base. He slowly slips his mouth down Chris’s shaft, adjusting to each addition until the head brushes against the back of the roof of his mouth and he bobs back, using his hand to take care of the part that he can’t reach with his mouth. While Darren aspires to one day take all of his cock, today is not that day. He has plenty of time to work on that later.

But now, they have thirty minutes for lunch, and he’s not about to ruin it with his inexperience with dick.

Chris’s hand falls to Darren’s shoulder, gripping it with a pressure that’s almost painful. But it far from discourages him, keeping his head moving at a constant speed, tonguing around the head of Chris’s dick at all times.

He can tell from the sounds coming from above him that Chris is losing his composure, breathing nonsense sentences praising him, the hand on his shoulder gliding up to the back of his neck, holding him steady.

“Yeah, Darren, just—” the rest of the sentence is lost in a high-pitched whine as Darren’s hand sweeps through the trail of hair on his lower stomach and lightly fondles his balls. Chris’s fingers at the nape of his neck tugs at the hair there, breath hitching as if he’d punched in the gut and his hips push forward slightly.

Darren groans at the sensation of Chris pulling his hair, causing Chris to grip tighter at his shoulder and it’s a feedback loop of pleasure until Darren pulls back until just the tip of Chris’s cock is in his mouth, sucking roughly. He strokes the remaining length faster, alternating between bobbing his head further and licking at the tip and Chris keeps talking (“Yes, Darren, I, just like, yeah”) with no recognition that he’s even speaking. His hips keep rocking in aborted attempts to fully thrust into Darren’s mouth, and when he says, “Dare, I’m gonna—” stomach twitching, Darren pulls back so that his tongue can do all the work at the slit of his cock, hand blurring as his strokes becoming longer and faster. His eyes rise to look at Chris, flushed all the way down to the middle of his chest, head thrown back and shoulders tight as he babbles to the ceiling.

Chris’s voice is cracking as he says, “I’m—” and breaks, hips gliding forward, pushing his cock further into Darren’s mouth, coming down his throat.

Chris’s knees give out almost immediately, Darren holding him up by the waist and lowering him gently to the deeply generic blue carpet of his trailer.

For the first time since Darren started his crusade for his orgasm, Chris is completely silent, breathing slowing as he lays on the floor, looking at Darren with half-closed eyes. Darren smiles softly at him, bangs flopping over his sweaty forehead and Chris closes his eyes in contentment when Darren brushes the rogue hair out of his eyes and curls his fingers behind Chris’s ear.

“That was—” Chris says, reaching up to tangle his fingers with Darren’s. “Thank you.”

Darren just grinned. “Any time.”

Chris rolls over to his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “I might just take you up on that,” he says, eyes searing over Darren’s body, and taking in his bare chest and unbuttoned pants.

And desperately hard cock.

“Dare, let me take care of you.”

Darren looks at the clock in the mini kitchen. “I don’t think we have time.”

Chris grins mischievously as he sits up and reaches into Darren’s underwear. “We’ll just have to make time, then, won’t we?”

Darren is hard-pressed to agree, Chris’s thin, warm fingers wrapping around his neglected dick. He grunts softly and Chris lets go briefly to pull his boxers down around his thighs, completely freeing his cock. It bobs up to his stomach, leaking precome. Chris brushes his palm over the tip, gathering the precome in his palm and using it to stroke down on Darren’s cock, forcing a huff of air from his lungs.

Chris lunges forward and smashes his lips against Darren’s, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Darren closes his eyes, senses overloaded as Chris’s hand speeds up and his tongue continues its conquest. He struggles to breathe and moans, Chris swallowing his eager sounds and twisting his wrist on each upstroke. Chris’s mouth breaks away from Darren’s, kissing along his cheek and nibbling at the skin behind his ear and his hips jerk forward and wasn’t that the move that got them in trouble in the first place?

He realizes as soon as he has the thought that he doesn’t give a single shit, Chris whispering hotly in his ear.

“Go ahead, Dare. Fuck my hand, come on.”

Darren whines, Chris’s breath brushing tantalizingly over his ear, and he continues to push his hand through the circle of Chris’s fist, losing control.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

Chris’s other hand strokes along his stomach before playing with his balls gently, Darren still forcing his hips up towards Chris. The added stimulation brings him closer to the brink, thighs beginning to tighten up from their strain to hold him upright. “Chris, please, I—”

Darren doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but clearly, Chris does, because he tightens his fist, resuming the twisting motion and Darren spills over his hand, burying his face in Chris’s neck as Chris talks him down.

“Yeah, such a good boy, Dare. So good.”

Darren sighs into Chris’s neck, body collapsing into Chris’s. Chris uses his clean hand to stroke down Darren’s sweaty back, kissing his temple and hair in quick succession.

Darren raises his head slightly, seeing the ring of sweat around Chris’s neck, the ring of sweat that started everything, the reason he lost all control of that conversation two weeks ago. He smiles, kissing Chris’s shoulder first and then traveling slowly to his collarbone, lapping up the sweat in the small dip.

Chris giggles slightly, the giggles fading as Darren continues to lick at his chest, collecting the salty flavor on his tongue.

“Dare?” he asks, fingers tangling slightly in Blaine’s non-gelled fro.

“Yeah, babe?” he replies, looking up.

Chris smiles at the endearment, thumb brushing restlessly over the side of Darren’s cheek. “Thanks for the lunch,” he says, smirk spreading slightly.

Darren frowned. “Are you hungry? I can—”

Chris laughed, hand shifting to brush behind Darren’s ear. “No, I don’t need food. Just needed...this.” He chuckles slightly. “I like this way better than the food trucks, you know?”

Darren can feel his face relaxing, smile spreading as he presses a short kiss to Chris’s lips. He knows exactly what Chris means, knows perfectly that he needs to hear the words first, so he whispers, “I love you, too.”

Chris’s eyes widen slightly, the precious words affecting him, but his fingers never stop moving, thumbs now over Darren’s temples.

“Darren Criss, I have never loved you more.”

Darren grins, softly pressing his lips against Chris’s shoulder and staying there, basking in the last moments of their solitude. “I think it’s time Kurt sweeps Blaine off his feet again,” Darren says, smiling.

Chris chuckles and starts to pull away. “I guess you’re right.”

They get dressed in silence, leaving Chris’s trailer with one last lingering kiss in the doorway.

Darren regretfully untangles his fingers from Chris’s, and steps onto the pavement, leading the way to make-up.

“You know what?” Darren says, as they walk briskly.

Chris turns to him with an eyebrow raised, “What?”

“For a person that accuses me of talking too much, you said an awful lot in there.”

Chris slaps his arm, pursing his lips in an attempt not to laugh as they approach make-up. “You’ll pay for that later,” he murmurs.

Darren grins widely, leaning close to his ear to whisper, “I look forward to it.”


End file.
